


The People's Love Poetry

by pickaxetothebrain



Category: The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Poetry (poetwy)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27903604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickaxetothebrain/pseuds/pickaxetothebrain
Summary: Fic trade with ColourShot! Rick confesses his love for Neil with poetry. Its v short but I hope you like it!!
Relationships: Neil Wheedon Watkins Pye/Rick (Young Ones)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	The People's Love Poetry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ColourShot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColourShot/gifts).



The silence was a deafening cry that told volumes. It told a story of two housemates in love, one too shy to say it and one too proud to say it. 

If Rick swallowed his pride, he’d easily run the risk of choking to death. And yet here he was. Sitting at the table. Alone with Neil. Sweat cascaded off his body as if his pores were Victoria Falls. Part of him was itching to confess his love, to tell Neil everything he hid under his snappy persona. The other part was so, so scared of rejection that it often was painful. The poet had no clue how long he could keep doing this. 

At the sink was Neil, washing dishes to avoid longingly staring at Rick. Bottling it all up was Rick’s game. Avoiding it altogether was Neil’s. Time and time again, the hippie had been met with disappointment and pain. He’d never dare try and confess his love no matter how intensely his heart ached to kiss Rick. That was a death wish to him. 

Rick whipped out his poetry book and wrote, humming Devil Woman so he wouldn’t recite his work in progress. It was a love poem, another love poem he planned to hide. 

The scratching of a biro intrigued Neil. “What’re you writing Rick?”

“Nothing,” Rick spat as a double-edged sword. “Stupid hippie.”

“Oh, ok. Well, uh, I’ll see you maybe,” replied the hippie. He turned the sink off and started walking off. 

Rick felt intense guilt. Oh god, he just said that, dammit! Quick, fix it!

“Um-!” the poet called, making Neil turn around. Rick then cleared his throat. “...His eyes are darker than how I take my coffee.”

“What?”

Rick continued to anxiously recite, “I’m too afraid to ask if he loves me. I hide it by calling him a stupid hippie. I don’t know why he intimidates me. I love Neil, does he love me...?”

By the time the poem was over, Neil was bright red. Rick was paler than a ghost. For an eon of a second, time stopped around them and they could only stare at each other. Requitted love was so...scary, now that it seemed to have been found. 

Neil acted first with a gentle, cautious nod, making Rick burst into tears like it was a proposal. The hippie ran to embrace the sobbing poet as a result. 

Rick held on like he could lose Neil. Rick held on like time could stop again, and he could stay like this forever and make up for all the time he hadn't been holding Neil. 


End file.
